This ain't a fairytale!
by fred weasley watcher
Summary: J.K. Rowling meant to make a difference, to share a story, to apologize, to make sure everyone knew it was alright. She didn't make it for amusement.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Although I would like to say that J.K. Rowling made a gripping fairytale filled with romance, bravery, good-ness, and happiness and that's it. A fairytale that made everyone constantly happy and so over-joyed they had had tears brimming every second. Happy tears only. How I would LOVE to say that when I read the "Harry Potter" series, that she so bravely wrote, I never once felt like chucking the book at the wall because of her stupidity and her wickedness. How I would be over-joyed to say that any man, woman, or child would be able to grasp the meaning of her words straight away.

You have no idea how much I want to be able to truthfully say these things. How much I want to be able to look a six year old child in the eyes and tell them that it ended out ok. That only the bad guys lost and that the good guys won, but that's not the case.

J.K. Rowling imagined a boy. A boy whose life was filled with shadows, ugliness, and neglect. She created a world that had so much potential to be good but because the occupants were who they were it turned into such an ugly shade of horror. That the people inside turned out to be not good, not evil, but all completely different shades of grey.

She made that book because she wanted people to know my story. So that muggles have the chance. So that I had a chance. I risked so much and needed so much help. Both magical and non-magical blood was spilt, because of me. I couldn't do it. I needed help which led to people trying to help me. Which led to their and those they cared about deaths.

I, Harry James Potter, am here now to tell you the true story. How hard it was. It will only be quick, simple and mostly filled with sorrow and unhappiness but it will show how hard it really was. It will show the side that she censored out. Everyone will write out our experiences out and share them with the world, because the world needs to know. Needs to know how vile and foul it really is and how much it shouldn't be here.

None of us should be here.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Draco

Overview: grew up with an unrelenting father and a cold mother, spent his teenage years in fear due to his 'duties' to the Dark Lord and eventually became a Death Eater, and spent his older years in what readers can only imagine. Many imagine his adult years in Azkaban or in complete isolation or in happiness but…. none of these lives would suit him. Truthfully. His life was constantly pain, hardship, cold love, hurt, countless tears, fear, and secrecy. He would know no other way. He could not go to Azkaban because he is innocent. He could not be in isolation because he would drown in the unfamiliarity. He could not live in happiness because he has never known pure and complete happiness. For I can not see him on a family picnic on a beautiful summer's day. I can see him in his cold, dark bedroom, with the many shades of green and black surrounding him as he read. As he hoped for his life to get better.

Signed,

Hermione J. Granger

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I think the hardest part of my life would've be seeing my father and mother being sent to Azkaban for their crimes and only being left with the money in my pocket, the clothes on my back, my wand and my mental state.

I tried for years to just fade, but of course fate was never that kind.

The Ministry of Magic alerted the muggle community to my homelessness, recklessness and uncertain ways. Organizations such as St. Vincent De Paul Society and The Salvation Army followed my every step everywhere I travelled. I travelled all around the world as a sailor, pilot, basically whatever job I could find that would lead me to somewhere else. I was caught in between self loathing and pure despise for everything else.

Well, at least that was the hardest part of my life.

The worst part of my life was the complete opposite.

I never felt hate, nor loathing. I never had constant help, but only physical maintaining. I didn't try to fade but rather to die. I never saw my parents do wrong, well at least no wrong in my eyes. I thought what they were doing was the good, right thing to do, but quite obviously, I was mistaken.

The worst time was my sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I had thought that pleasing the Dark Lord was the truly right and just thing to do. Even towards the end, when I started to realize that I both couldn't and shouldn't do what he asked of the threats of pain, suffering and deaths of my family and friends kept me from backing out. Just forgetting all of it.

Even though I am now fully aware that my, so called, 'friends' weren't ever true enough to fill the title they used as a mask to hide from me and that my parents were never actually my family (they were providers, yes, but never a mother and father in any way other than biologically) I still loved and cared for everyone of them. They were the only people on Earth that I had. And I never truly had them….

Everyday throughout that year I struggled to keep going.

I would breakdown in tears, fury, worry, confusion, and frustration. I would cut myself. I even tried to commit suicide once. No, three times. The first two were, and still are, irrelevant but the last one. The major one, that one scared me. I realized what I could do. What I was capable of doing to myself.

The first time was a vow of not eating. I lasted two weeks before the constant passing out caused me to end up in the infirmary under the surveillance of Madam Pomfrey, she forced me to eat…. Literally….

The second time I almost bled to death. I didn't mean to….technically. I broke down and slashed my arm up to the point where I couldn't tell hw many times I cut that night. I still couldn't tell you. Counting the scars, even while they were healing, was impossible as they were all, basically, one. They were all connected somehow. Overlapping each other until there was something that looked like just one big hole in the middle of my arms, torso, legs, neck, and anything in the middle. Once I was done and had realized the extent of how much I had done, I was horrified. I then let the tears flow down from my eyes freely instead of holding them back, not that I was stopping them in the first place. I laid down on my back and screamed. But no one was there, in the Room of Requirement, no one could hear me. I laid there as my blood pooled out of me. I later realized that, the spell Potter used, 'Sectumsempra' could've done exactly the same thing but just faster, because truthfully that day in the bathroom when he hit me with that curse, I loved it. Every drop that escaped me I felt as if I could fell them. Every single one. I could feel the slashes, the burns, the cuts. I don't really know how I ended up in the infirmary after my little episode in the Room of Requirement. All I can remember is someone gasping as they saw me, and a female voice trying to soothe me as she carried me out of the room and called for help. I guess I must've blacked out. I think I had been through enough to warrant that.

The third time, however, was after Professor Dumbledore's death. As in _right_ after. I don't think half an hour had past. Once we had left the castle we returned to Malfoy Manor where we met the Dark Lord, himself. Snape told me that he had killed Dumbledore but that I was the one that deserved the credit. He was lying, at least I hope he was. That's when I got the dark mark branded onto my skin. It pained, but of course I didn't mind. While most would look at the Dark Lord as they got, what they thought was the, greatest gift they could ever receive I looked away. I looked into the embers of the fireplace as I reflected on what I had done to get to this point. How I had lied about having the dark mark in the first place, how I had gone against any civil person she ever do. But, I suppose. That's just how I was developed. I say 'developed' instead of 'risen' because I was never really risen by my parents, but then again I never really grew up either. I was grown up when only minutes after I was born my father forbade anyone to ever hug me. If that's what you call growing up, then I grew up very fast. After pondering for a couple of seconds. I stood up from my bed and walked over to the fireplace, and plunged my arm in. I screamed. I know people could hear me, but no one came to check up on me. No t one person. How sad. Anyways, I kept my arm in the fire until I blacked out and even then it was still fairly in due to the crate leveling my arm up above the flames. Once I woke, I looked at my numb arm and discovered it missing. 'Ah, well.' I thought. 'Too bad.' And I did it again. This time with my head.

I had never thought that my hair was that overly special, but in those couple of seconds, trust me, I thought it. The strands of dead cells, keratin, felt like the only shield my head had from the flames and, God, did it feel good to get rid of it. To feel the burning, flickering flames on my head. To almost die, and when I say 'almost' I mean it. The only reason I didn't, was because my mother finally came in to see what the screaming was being caused by. She said it was a nuisance, she couldn't sleep, but the tears in her eyes said differently. That was the first time in a long time that I actually felt loved. Big whoop.

By,

Draco Malfoy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Overview: Severus Snape: grew up in a dysfunctional family that was tight on money, spent his teenage years, at Hogwarts, being bullied by the Marauders and probably anyone else he happened to lay eyes on, as a man had to live in secrecy, hurt and betrayal while he endangered his life everyday in sake of the son of his dead love that married the very man that bullied him. Professor Snape was insulted, hated, stereotyped as evil, cast aside and made fun of by not only the people in his world but readers for most of his tragic life. He most likely never had any sort of _real_ friends other than Lily Evans that, in his eyes, betrayed him for James. Even in his teenage years he lived in secrecy of being a half-blood but having to pretend to be a full-blood to be apart of the elite Slytherins. He died defending not only Harry but Lily aswell. Despite everyone thinking they knew who Severus was they never truly knew until they heard the news from Severus' memories whilst in the Pensieve.

By,

George Weasley

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I'm not going to go into too much detail as my life is mine and no one else's. You do not get to know the hurt in the life in which I possess, nor the happiness.

Even though there wasn't much of the ladder and too much of the former.

I died defending James' brat and Lily's precious jewel. He was both at times, only one sometimes and at other times none of the above. I never hated him. I just hated what he represented.

The books showed me as evil until the very end in which you found out about my hurt. I never saw myself any differently. It was my fault, no one else's.

I condemned myself to the life I have lead.

That is all I have to say.

By,

Severus Snape


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4-

Overview: Teddy Lupin: He never knew anything, he never felt it all. Well, not _all_ of it, anyway. He did feel the loss of his parents. The loss of not knowing someone important to you.

By,

Harry J. Potter

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I'm not going to say that the actions of my parents, or anyone else in their generation affected me. Nor am I going to say that my godfather's actions or anyone's in _his_ generation affected me.

In fact I had almost no part in it. I was just conceived wrong time, wrong place. That's all.

How can I love someone if I've never met them? Never spoken to them? Never been held by them? I couldn't, could I? What I feel for my parents isn't love but longing. Harry says differently, always have, but what I believe is: it's just longing. Any other way, I wouldn't be able to cope.

Sometimes I wonder if it would be better that I knew them, that I was Harry's age or a first year when the Great Battle happened but then I think of my life, how I've grown up, who basically raised me and what his ordeals were. How if I had known them then I could've had the chance to love them, and how that would've hurt so much more.

By,

Teddy Lupin.

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A/N: hey um, hope you're enjoying it so far. Um, if you like this could you maybe check out my Wattpad account: 'suicidal slasher' is the username. "How to survive my life" is the story. So yeah…. Thanks for fanning, and stuff. Don't forget to review.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5-

Overview: Ron Weasley: He was Harry's best friend, he went through almost everything with Harry. Basically everything, anyway, sure he wasn't there in some of the climatic moments such as the fight in the cemetery or at Godric's Hollow with Hermione, or when his parents were killed, but he was always a shoulder to lean on, always a brother like figure to him, if he wished it.

By,

Bill Weasley

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To be completely honest with you half the time I wasn't thinking. I was focusing on two words: 'Bloody Hell' and how to get out of whatever bloody mess we had gotten ourselves in.

I wasn't the one with the plans: that was Hermione. I wasn't the one with the hero skills: that was Harry. I don't think I had anything really. I think I was just the best mate that got there through loyalty and plain stupidity, really. I was never a particularly brave one, not like Harry or my brothers. I was never particularly good at spells, not like Hermione or Ginny. I was basically good at two things and that was well, wizard's chess and being scared of spiders.

Yeah, I went through 'phases'. Yeah, I suffered from depression, moments were self harm looked good (but I never actually had the guts to do it), and times when pitching myself off the astronomy tower without a cushioning spell would be appealing but never as bad as the other two. 'The Golden Trio' they called us, and I was apart of it, I just never felt like I was. Now I kind of do but sometimes I get that feeling that just isn't that right.

I mean, I've seen my best mate, and now, my wife have years where you literally had to crash tackle them to the ground so that they wouldn't kill themselves or cut just that little bit deeper, that little more frequently. It was bloody scary. I remember one time when I walked into the apartment the three of us shared (after the Battle at Hogwarts) and saw Harry and Hermione help each other self harm. There was muggle medicine all around them on the sofa, what I now know was, a bong next to each of them and beer bottles every where while helping each other put blades in their arms and legs. It scared me half to death, literally. I was in St. Mungos recovering form a heart attack for three days. They apologized repeatedly afterwards of course but…. I don't know. Ever since that day I've been wary of them two after they've had a couple, or if their on a bad mood. We still live together so that helps but…. it isn't the same. I love both of them, I mean their my best mate and my wife, to see them like that…. it's a big fat 'bloody hell' moment, ain't it? It's just plain scary.

Growing up, always fearing for them and what was going to happen next musn't be good for anybody, let alone a bumbling idiot like me. Fred or George would've been up for the task better, they should've done it. They'd of never of been moments between them and Harry that Harry and I had. Like how I got so mopy during the Triwizard tournament, in our fourth year, because Harry's name was in it because I thought Harry wanted the 'fame and glory.' Or the time I walked out in him and Hermione because we couldn't find the horcruxes fast enough. I was so bloody stupid. Harry has never wanted fame and glory, he's only wanted to be in the shadows, normal maybe. He also had enough money of his own, that's for sure and I wasn't thinking that night. Those two were my best mates, and I'd chosen to go with them, didn't I? I never should have been so stupid. And a wuss too. Like, in our third year, when we found out Sirius was actually the anamagus…. I completely chickened out. I wasn't up for the job. I was so petty.

I hated it.

By,

Ron B. Weasley.


End file.
